


Control

by axrowan



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M, slight dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axrowan/pseuds/axrowan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a <a href="http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/3689.html?thread=2093929#cmt2093929">prompt</a> at grimm_kink: Nick's been teasing at Monroe's control for a while now, intentionally or not, and it reaches a breaking point where Monroe snaps, losing control and intent on having his way with Nick, whether Nick really wants it or not.</p><p>Nick does want it, but not like this, and when his attempts to get Monroe to slow down or stop are met with only slight hesitation, Nick reminds Monroe that he's a Grimm. Nick turns the tables on Monroe, and then Nick's the one having his way with Monroe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> **Bonuses:** Monroe absolutely loving it (though maybe not at first?)
> 
> Some sort of aftermath that includes at least the possibility of a happy ending.

He doesn’t know how this happened. That should worry him, that he doesn’t know how he got here, that one minute it was wine and pasta and Nick leaning over to open another bottle and the next it’s Nick’s back against the fridge, Monroe’s hands in his hair and his mouth on Nick’s neck. There was a strip of Nick’s skin visible from where his shirt rode up, he remembers – red, his boxers were red, _red, red, red_ , Monroe thinks, trying to grasp onto that, hold it tightly and remember, but he can’t think. Everything is Nick at the moment, warm and strong pressed against him, the taste of Nick’s neck on his tongue, the smell of Nick’s arousal, the feel of Nick’s hands in his hair, tugging him up-

Monroe growls, but lifts his head from Nick’s neck to kiss him, demanding and possessive. Nick returns the kiss, tongue slipping into Monroe’s mouth, and Monroe feels a contented rumble in his chest, crowds Nick closer against the fridge. 

He moves his hands from Nick’s hair to pull at the buttons of his shirt, unconcerned with actually unbuttoning them and much more concerned with getting the fabric away from Nick’s skin.

Nick breaks the kiss, chuckling, and says, “Not that I’m not gratified by your enthusiasm, but I liked that shirt.”

But the words have no meaning to Monroe. He’s past able to comprehend language, focused entirely on his senses, on licking at Nick’s neck again. 

Nick’s unbuttoning his shirt, and Monroe ignores it, until Nick pushes at his shoulders, trying to remove the shirt, and Monroe growls a warning, because he’s not ready to move his hands yet. 

Nick’s hands still. “Monroe?” he asks, and the trace of hesitancy in his voice is something Monroe can still pick up on.

It’s not something he cares about, though, not when he can smell Nick, how much he wants this, and Monroe chases away the hesitancy with another kiss. 

Nick kisses him back, and Monroe’s hands slide down his chest, to the waistband of his jeans. This time when Nick pushes his shirt off, Monroe lets him, eager to feel the press of skin against skin. 

Monroe drags Nick to the ground, straddling his waist as he kisses him, hands roaming over Nick’s chest. Nick’s hands slide across Monroe’s own chest, but he breaks the kiss, pulling away, and Monroe whines.

“Seriously, man, slow down. There’s a perfectly good bed upstairs.”

Monroe tries to kiss him again, but Nick won’t let him, hands pressed against Monroe’s chest to keep some distance between them. Monroe growls. 

Concern fills Nick’s eyes. “Monroe? Talk to me.” 

Monroe shifts back away from Nick’s hands, and then leans in lower, pressing a biting kiss to Nick’s collarbone, sternum, over his chest, down his stomach, tasting his skin and the scent of Nick’s arousal, stronger now as he curves his tongue underneath the waistband of Nick’s half-unzipped jeans.

“Monroe,” Nick says, voice slightly breathless. “Slow down, and talk to me. You’re starting to worry me.” 

Words are still confusing, and neither of them need to be talking for this, so Monroe grinds down hard against Nick, sliding back up to kiss him roughly. His cock is straining against the fabric of his pants, so he unzips them one handed, pushing them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. He drags Nick’s pants down around his thighs as well, breaking the kiss to mouth down Nick’s chest.

“Slow down. Stop for a second, we need to-” 

Nick cuts off as Monroe circles his fingers around Nick’s cock, heavy and full in his hand. Monroe growls in approval, tightening his grip and stroking him, hard and fast. 

“ _Stop_ ,” Nick says, the hint of a warning in his voice. 

It cuts through the red in Monroe’s vision, just a little, enough to make him hesitate. But then Nick shifts under him again, arms tensing, shoulders back as if he’s going to push himself up off the ground, chin tipped up slightly, and it reveals the line of Nick’s neck, and then all Monroe can think about is wanting _more_. His hand tangles in Nick’s hair to jerk his head back, expose Nick’s throat, and then he sets his teeth over Nick’s pulse point, skin warm under his tongue, not biting, not yet, but a promise, growled low in his throat and-

Pain explodes in his lower back, radiating out and Monroe lets go of Nick’s throat to howl. He slumps forward, barely noticing that Nick shoves his way out from under him, the pain making his vision blurry and limbs weak. Then he’s being yanked back, up on his knees, but he barely feels that, either, just another twinge in his back that has him making noises halfway between a whimper and a growl. 

At some point, when the pain fades enough to allow him to actually notice other things, he realizes there’s a strong arm wrapped around his chest, pinning him back against something warm and solid, a hand on his cock, stroking languidly, and a voice in his ear, telling him to _shhhh_. 

Monroe’s still not in control, still ruled by his instincts, but now they’re confused, muddled by pain and arousal and something else, something he doesn’t quite understand, because he isn’t in any condition to actually be thinking about anything with any kind of rationality. 

He growls, something that’s supposed to be a warning but just comes out confused, and the hand on his cock tightens its grip.

“Monroe,” Nick murmurs, lips against his skin. “Are you back?” 

The question doesn’t really mean anything too him, though; he’s too focused on the tight grip on his cock, on rocking his hips into it, good but _not enough_. He needs more, _more_ , and he’s going to get it. 

Monroe starts to turn, to face Nick, still growling softly, but the hand on his cock lets go, and then it’s pressing against his lower back, not hard, and if Monroe wasn’t already hurting, it would be just enough to thrill. As it is, it causes another twinge of pain, and Monroe stills. He’s pushed forward, palms smacking sharply on the tile of the kitchen floor, and he feels the pressure of a hand still on his lower back as another pulls his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off. 

And Nick’s suddenly leaning over him, nudging Monroe’s knees wider, spreading his legs and reaching around again to stroke his cock. 

It’s still not enough, and Monroe growls – tries to growl, but he hears the way it comes out, as more of a whimper. 

Nick shifts, skin sliding over his, and Monroe can feel Nick’s cock, hard and slick with pre-come, pressed up against his ass. The first slide seems accidental, but the next is determined, slipping between Monroe’s cheeks to nudge at him. 

Monroe thrusts back into it, and then growls for real when Nick pulls back, moves a few inches away. He quiets when he feels a finger probing at his entrance, wet with spit and pre-come, still burning a little as it slides in. 

“Do you have something like lube?” Nick asks. “Because otherwise this is going to be really uncomfortable.” 

Monroe whines, thinks _yes please_ and doesn’t know what he’s saying yes to, doesn’t even care what the answer to that is, because Nick finds his prostate and brushes the tip of his finger against it, and Monroe’s rocking hard back into the touch.

There’s the sound of cabinets opening, and then Nick’s finger disappears, only to return, slicked with something else, sliding in much smoother. Nick works him open quickly, other hand still stroking over his cock, and all Monroe can think is _mine_. 

Nick’s fingers disappear, but Monroe doesn’t even really have time to register their absence before Nick’s cock is replacing them, pushing slowly in, until Monroe grows impatient with the pace and thrusts back, until Nick is fully inside him.

There’s a sharp gasp from behind him, but Monroe doesn’t care, doesn’t care about anything but the fact that Nick starts _moving_ , but _yes mine more_ , but Nick’s hand on his cock, Nick leaning over him, Nick’s breath against the back of his head, everything that is _his_. He’s vaguely aware that he’s growling, “Mine,” on every exhale, but he doesn’t care about that, either. 

And then Nick’s no longer stroking him, no longer thrusting against him, but gets both arms wrapped around Monroe’s chest and pulls, yanking him back up on his knees – he can’t balance properly with his knees spread so wide, and he leans back against Nick’s chest, Nick’s arms holding him tightly. 

Monroe growls, confused, and Nick gives a few shallow thrusts, brushing his prostate each time. 

Nick presses his lips against Monroe’s neck, murmurs, “ _Mine_ ,” and bites Monroe’s pulse point just as he surges up for a deep thrust, hitting Monroe’s prostate and holding there. 

Monroe comes, all over his stomach and thighs, howling, cock untouched. Nick leaves his teeth set against Monroe’s neck throughout his orgasm, cock still deep in Monroe’s ass, and doesn’t move even when Monroe comes down from it, panting. 

Then Nick shifts, brushing against his prostate again, and Monroe’s half hard again, despite that his instincts are slowly calming, soothed slightly by the previous orgasm. But it’s not enough, it’s still not enough, and Monroe can’t fight his way back to rational thought, especially not with Nick still hard inside him, with a growl still in Monroe’s chest and an urge to do anything to _make him move_. 

“Move,” Monroe manages to get out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Nick does, a slow, shallow thrust that makes Monroe rock back into him. 

Nick’s hand reaches around to Monroe’s cock, nearly completely hard again, and gives it a few strokes, thumb sliding over the head and fingers kneading at his balls. Monroe slides forward and back, into Nick’s hand and onto his cock, but he can’t get any leverage like this, can’t move as fast and as hard as he wants. 

“More,” Monroe says, and it sounds like a plea. Maybe it is one. 

Nick pushes him forward, back on hands and knees, and begins thrusting into him in earnest, fucking him hard and fast. His hands are on Monroe’s hips, fingers digging in, and giving no sign of letting go any time soon. 

So Monroe slips his own hand underneath his stomach, closing it around his cock, and Nick leans forward again, bats it away. 

“No,” Nick tells him, lips right by his ear. “Come again, like this.” 

Monroe whines, but doesn’t argue, because he _can_ , he knows he can. Because he’s _Nick’s_ , he can do anything Nick asks him to, and-

He feels it, the exact moment when _yes please more mine more mine mine_ becomes tangled irrevocably up in _yours please please yours more yours_ , and he _knows_ exactly what this is, exactly what he has that he’s more than likely destroyed because he couldn’t fucking control himself. The weight of the realization is almost too much, and his strength gives out, crashing down to rest on his forearms, head hanging between them as he lets out a slightly broken sob. 

Nick follows him, still thrusting, though the pace is slowed now, presses a kiss behind his ear, scrapes his teeth over Monroe’s earlobe. “You can do it,” he murmurs. “Come on, Monroe.”

Nick’s angling his thrusts sharply, nudging against his prostate, and Monroe’s so close, _so close_ , and then Nick bites him again, and Monroe’s pushed over the edge. Nick thrusts against him a few more times, and then Monroe can feel him coming, through the rush of Monroe’s own orgasm. 

For a long few moments after they’re both done, Nick stays slumped over him, breathing heavily against Monroe’s skin. Then Nick pulls slowly out of him, and gently pushes Monroe to the floor, on his side so Nick can curl up behind him, Nick’s chest pressed to Monroe’s back. 

Monroe lets Nick manhandle him however he wants, body limp, both because it’s content in the aftermath of two orgasms, and because his instincts have calmed enough that Monroe’s fully in control again, in control and miserable. 

He curls in on himself, shame, guilt, and something like horror overtaking him. Maybe if he just lays there, if he doesn’t move or speak, Nick will just go, won’t kill him, or talk to him, or look at him with disappointment and disgust and hate in his eyes. 

“That wasn’t exactly how I imagined our first time,” Nick says, dry and humorless and a little shaky.

For a split second, Monroe thinks, _Nick thought about us having a first time?_ And then the guilt and shame overwhelms everything else, and Monroe hunches further in. 

Something Nick apparently notices, because he says quietly, “Hey. Monroe, you back with me?”

Monroe doesn’t want to say anything, but Nick’s got his hand on his shoulder and he’s turning Monroe back towards him, and Monroe _can’t_ , he can’t look at Nick, can’t face him, so he takes the coward’s way out and says, “Yes.” 

Nick’s hand stills. There’s a long pause, then he says, “You didn’t hurt me.” 

“I wasn’t trying to _hurt_ you,” Monroe says. 

“You didn’t do that, either,” Nick replies. 

Monroe swallows. “Because you _stopped_ me!”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want,” Nick says. 

“Except for the part where you said ‘stop,’ and I didn’t,” Monroe replies, quiet and ashamed. 

“If it was really something I didn’t want, you would have stopped,” Nick tells him. “But I did want it. That was the problem, I was just confusing your instincts and-”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Monroe demands, but doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t sound anything but guilty. “It’s okay that you said no and I didn’t stop because you really wanted it, it’s your fault for confusing me, you sound like-”

“Don’t,” Nick cuts him off, and for the first time, his voice is harsh. His hand finds Monroe’s lower back, pressing against it just a little. “Remember who was in control there, and _don’t_.”

Monroe doesn’t, but only because he’d pretty much do whatever Nick said, at this point. 

“And turn around and face me,” Nick orders. “You owe me that much.”

In an absurd way, Monroe’s almost relieved, that at least Nick isn’t treating this like Monroe hadn’t done anything wrong anymore. He turns over slowly, trying to ignore the feel of come slowly drying on his thighs, trying not to be reminded that some of it is Nick’s. 

Nick’s propped up on one elbow, looking at him with eyes that are more silver than blue, not hard, but not the soft, open expression Monroe’s used to, either. He can’t read anything in Nick’s expression, really, and that unsettles him more than if he’d just saw blunt hate. Monroe lets out a soft whine before he can help himself. 

Monroe wants to apologize, wants to beg forgiveness, promise to do something, anything, to make up for this, but he can’t find the words. He doesn’t know what to offer that will make what he did any less horrible. 

He doesn’t think there is anything. 

“What made you lose control?” Nick asks. 

Monroe wants to duck his head away, doesn’t want to answer, but Nick is right. Monroe owes him this much. “I don’t know. I’ve wanted you for a really long time, but I controlled it, I always did, but today, I-” His voice drops. “I wasn’t strong enough. I was- what I did was-”

“Problematic,” Nick supplies. “But not unforgiveable.”

Monroe swallows, but doesn’t say anything.

“Maybe I’d feel differently if things had gone differently, if I hadn’t taken control of the situation.” Nick’s voice is quiet, almost thoughtful. “Maybe I’d hate you. But I don’t. You’re not human, Monroe. I know that. You can’t be held to the same standards.”

“I should,” Monroe says. “I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Maybe in a perfect world, but humans don’t have to fight instincts like you do. I’m not saying you’re not at fault, that you shouldn’t be blamed.”

Monroe doesn’t flinch, because he is at fault, and he should be blamed.

“But you weren’t in control right then,” Nick finishes. 

“I should have been,” Monroe says.

“But you weren’t,” Nick repeats. “You lost control, and you weren’t yourself. I was. I was in control, and I was myself, and I saw it.”

Monroe whines, because he doesn’t know where Nick’s going with this. 

“You weren’t exactly capable of saying no at the time,” Nick continues. “If you hadn’t really wanted it in general, or hadn’t wanted the way it ended up happening.”

“But I did want it,” Monroe says, confused. 

“So did I,” Nick says quietly.

Monroe’s a little flabbergasted. “You can’t- you were stopping me, controlling me-” He cuts off with a horrified expression, because he hadn’t meant that to sound the way it did. “I _attacked_ you.” 

“You pinned me against the fridge and kissed me, which I was very enthusiastic about,” Nick says. “And then you got too aggressive, and maybe we’re just lucky I wanted it, maybe things would have gone differently if I hadn’t, but they didn’t.”

Monroe has no idea what to say to that. 

“If you can’t trust in your own control, can you trust in mine?” Nick asks.

Monroe thinks about that. “No.”

Nick frowns. “Why not?” 

“Because I still want to bite you,” Monroe admits. 

Nick’s frown smooths out a little. “What else do you want?” 

Monroe wants – he wants to roll over on his belly, to get Nick to put his hands on his lower back again, sooth away the lingering pain. He wants to bare his throat and beg forgiveness, for Nick to sink his teeth in and hold him there. He wants Nick back inside him, heavy over his back, thrusting against him, he wants Nick’s mouth around his cock, he wants Nick to let him fuck him, to roll over on his back and have Nick on top of him, sinking down onto his cock, he wants to spread Nick out over his bed and show him that he can be in control, he _can_ , he can do anything Nick wants, he wants coffee in the morning and dinner at nights and the trailer when he should be in bed, wants Nick curled around him and- “Everything,” he says quietly. “I want everything.” 

Nick swallows. “Me, too,” he replies, voice equally soft. 

Monroe’s heart breaks a little. “You can’t.”

Nick’s eyes narrow. “Don’t tell me what I can’t want.”

“No, you _can’t_. You deserve to not have to be afraid, that you’re going to get assaulted just for walking through the kitchen, that the person you’re with isn’t going to lose control and not care what you want, to not have to fight them off, to not have to worry that if you come home from work and you’re too tired to want it and too tired to fight, that I might-” And Monroe’s still a coward, because he can’t say it.

“I was never afraid.”

Monroe can’t protest that, because he’d never smelt fear on Nick, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. Maybe that’s good, maybe he shouldn’t feel better. 

“I think the problem was you controlling yourself too much, winding yourself too tight. I don’t think it’s going to happen again. And even if it does-” Nick touches his neck, where Monroe’s sure there’s a bite mark. “I don’t think your instincts are going to have a problem listening to me.”

Monroe doesn’t want to admit that he thinks Nick’s right, at least about the last part. He’d bare throat, belly, and back for Nick, and a whole lot more. 

“I’m not saying this is fixed. That this isn’t something we’re going to have to work on, that this isn’t a problem. I’m just saying it’s not enough to make me not want you, want us.” Nick presses his thumb against Monroe’s neck, at that same spot, and yeah, there’s definitely a mark. 

Monroe whines and automatically stretches his neck, exposing his throat. 

“Is that you agreeing?” Nick asks. 

“Yes,” Monroe says quietly. 

And Nick smiles.


End file.
